


a fallen angel

by orlesiantitans



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt very little comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, i'm not okay, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29468730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: “We were meant to end all this. Go have a house in the country somewhere. And a family. She always talked about all the hunting she was gonna do.”It breaks Jean’s heart, and he nods. “We all miss her,” he agrees. “It’ll ease. Won’t heal, but it’ll ease.”
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	a fallen angel

_Weekend training always kind of sucks, because it means not getting a real bed inside a real building for at least two days. Jean puts up with it mostly because when he joins the MPs, he will always have a bed, and as many blankets as he wants, and his best friend rooming with him._

_Like the bad romance novels that Jean had found under Marco’s bed once, which promptly led to claims they ‘belong to Mina’, it’s raining and they’ve found an abandoned set of stables. At least, Jean is fairly sure they_ **_must_ ** _have been stables, because even with most of the stalls having disappeared with time, the musty smell of straw remains._

_Marco, naturally, is nervous. “Jean, are you sure it’s not going to collapse in on us? The place has clearly been rotting for a while.”_

_Jean, who would rather be crushed by a ceiling than lie out in the rain, just gives him a cocksure smile. “We’ll be fine, Marco!” he says. “Look! It’s totally sturdy.”_

_He shakes one of the pillars for evidence, and pretends not to hear the concerning squeak._

* * *

It’s been two weeks. They came home, they laid Sasha to rest, watched as her body burned to ash - ash that Connie had sobbed over even once the fire had cooled to nothing and that was all that was left. Everyone else left, but Jean had stayed. When Connie turned to him with questions swimming amongst a sea of tears, Jean had just wordlessly opened his arms.

He knows. He knows what it’s like to lose the person you love more than anything else in the world. He’d watched what was left of Marco get tossed upon a pile of their other friends - twisted beyond recognition - before promptly being covered with other bodies. As if he meant _nothing_ , just another number on a damn chart and not a person.

Had he ever mattered, though? Did any of them? _I need a name, son_. 

He’d held a fragment of a bone that could have been anyone’s in his hands, and sworn to make it mean something. 

It means nothing, he’s realised. It’s meant death and betrayal and more death, but there hasn’t been a single moment that’s signalled a step forward - just dozens of false positives, culminating in more war, more death, and more betrayal. 

Knocking on the door, Jean lets himself into Connie’s room. The unmoving figure on the bed doesn’t surprise him, either. If he’d had the time to curl into a ball and cry, he’d have done it. He goes to sit on the bed, propped up against the wall. Connie’s hand shoots out to curl around his, and he gives it a comforting squeeze. 

Normally, when confronted with a person in pain, the instinct is to soothe. Words of comfort, promises that things will be okay, lies that come from a place of comfort but mean fuck all in reality. So, Jean doesn’t bother with those. He just crosses his legs at the ankle and sighs. 

“I miss her, man,” Connie says, and his voice breaks. “We were meant to end all this. Go have a house in the country somewhere. And a family. She always talked about all the hunting she was gonna do.”

It breaks Jean’s heart, and he nods. “We all miss her,” he agrees. “It’ll ease. Won’t heal, but it’ll ease.”

He doesn’t mention that he still sees Marco in his dreams, half-a-face staring at him accusingly. What good would it do? 

“Wish Eren would just curl up and fucking die,” Connie spits out. They’re biting words from his usually cheerful friend, but the loss of a loved one can do that. And Connie had lost his family twice over. 

“Yeah, man. I know.”

* * *

_“Well, that was fun!” Sasha says brightly once they’re finished, Connie breathing heavily by her side. How she still has so much energy after_ **_that_ ** _, he doesn’t know, but he watches as she sits up anyway, more than content to watch considering the fact the blankets pool around her waist, giving him a very enticing view._

_Then, she reaches under the bed and pulls out bread (sliced), jam, and a knife. And starts making herself a sandwich._

_“You… have food in your room? The Captain lets you?” Connie asks, sitting up next to her. It’s been a few weeks since Shiganshina, and they’re still figuring out where to go from there - most of their work is getting Armin to shift, something their friend has been finding extremely difficult. It means they have a lot of free time, which has mostly just led to Connie and Sasha finding ways to fill it._

_Honestly, it didn’t come as much of a surprise that they’d finally been together. The tension had been simmering under the surface for years._

_Sasha grins “What the Captain doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Connie,” she says, finishing off the sandwich before holding it out to him._

_He blinks a couple of times. Sasha never shares her food, not unless she’s forced to, and yet there’s no hint this is a joke, no hesitation in her gaze. Her eyes are soft, as is her smile, and her accent is out - something he adores. Taking the sandwich out of her hands, he feels his heart stop briefly when her smile widens further before going back to making another sandwich._

_The realization that comes is not a surprise, or earth-shattering, or world-changing - it’s just acknowledgement of a fact he’s known deep inside since he was thirteen years old._

_I love her._

* * *

Standing in the shadows, Connie watches the kids in silence. The little girl seethes with barely-controlled fury, trembling as though the anger threatens to burst out of her without notice. The boy, in contrast, watches her calmly, a pinch of concern on his brow. Part of Connie wants to hate that girl, the one that killed Sasha without a moments’ hesitation - part of him does.

He knows she wouldn’t. Sometimes he feels her presence next to him, like she never left, and there’s never hatred there. Out of all of them, she ended up being the one least affected by everything that happened. Remaining cheerful even as the world tries to tell you to let everything you were die - that was Sasha. He reaches out a hand, imagines he can feel fingers wrap around his own. He closes his eyes, let out a shaky breath, and forces himself not to cry. 

_Not now. Plenty time for that later_. 

Jean’s footsteps don’t come as a surprise. He’s been a source of comfort to Connie for weeks, appearing out of nowhere and doing his best to be something steady. He’s worried. It’s nice, he supposes - everyone else is so focused on Eren fucking Yeager, worrying what he’s going to do next, wondering what happened to him. 

It’s like Sasha never even existed. Like her death is just another footnote in the long and bloody history of the Scout Regiment and the 104th Cadet Squad. 

Stopping next to him, both shrouded by shadow, Jean sighs. “They still haven’t decided what to do with them.”

“They’ve forgotten about them,” Connie argues, looking away. Forgotten about the kids just as quickly as they’d forgotten what happened to Sasha. “...she wouldn’t want them to be treated this way.”

“What do you want?” Jean asks softly. 

It’s a good question. Connie has gone between answers. On the one hand, he hates that little girl. But on the other hand, she’s a twelve year old who’d just watched Eren Yeager destroy her home. All her life, she’d been fed stories of devils, and then those devils had proven them correct. How many people had he gunned down? He’s long since accepted he’s a killer, but it doesn’t stop him from wondering how many fathers, mothers, sons, daughter, brothers and sisters they’d gunned down out there. His own family had been destroyed by those monsters - but Paradis could hardly claim the moral high ground. 

“I don’t know,” he answers. Then. “Well. Nothing that I can actually get.”

_I want her back_ goes unspoken. 

* * *

_Fingers on his jaw. They’re both still damp from the rain, from sweat, shivering despite the sleeping bags they’d doubled up on. But Jean can’t bring himself to care - not with Marco as close as he is, their bodies pressed inch-to-inch. He turns his head to press a kiss to the brunet’s palm, his own hand going to rest over Marco’s._

_“Was that okay?” Marco asks, face flushed from exertion and brow wrinkling in concern. The question would make Jean laugh if it wasn’t so earnest._

_“Great,” he replies honestly, moving closer until they’re pressed against each other, inch to inch. He brushes a kiss over Marco’s mouth. “I mean, I’d rather not use the same grease we use on our weapons next time, but…”_

_“You insisted we try… you know, putting things in!” Marco protests. His flush somehow manages to get darker, and Jean shrugs with a grin, shifting despite the ache in his ass. It’s pleasant, in honesty - a reminder of what they did - but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch next time he has to put his ODM gear on._

_Regardless, it’s an ache that he can appreciate, this close to their finishing ceremony. He and Marco are both set to finish in the top ten, and he can’t wait to finally have a peaceful time in the MPs with someone he loves. They’ll be safe on the interior, never have to see a Titan, and maybe in a few years they can get married and adopt a few kids, and…_

_He’s getting ahead of himself. Still, that’s the dream._

_After a while, he moves over to nuzzle into Marco’s neck, and takes the kiss that’s pressed to his forehead with a smile. He falls asleep, safe in the knowledge that he’ll have all the time in the world to daydream and kiss Marco and make love to him when they graduate in a week’s time._

_In the end, it’s their first and only time._

* * *

The curse is broken. The Titans are gone for good, as is the threat of them. Paradis Island opens itself to visitors, and Historia seems to be making headway with diplomacy - all with a baby strapped to her chest. 

For the last remnants of the Scout Regiment, it is… something. Not exactly a comfort, but something more than neverending suffering. 

But there is another goodbye to make. 

Jean places flowers down on the grave, his friends standing around him. Annie and Armin are wrapped around one another, Mikasa is standing close to Reiner, and Pieck stands just to his side. A short way away, Falco and Gabi watch as well - years taking away some of the anger out of Gabi’s eyes. She’s not soft, by any means, but Reiner and Mikasa seem to be acting as surrogate parents to both of them, wearing away those rough edges. Her eyes as she looks as the name on the stone are filled with the same emotions all of them are feeling. 

_Connie Springer of Ragako._

_For Humanity’s Freedom - Spread Your Wings._

_835-935_

“He’d have hated that message on his grave,” Reiner murmurs, and gets a smack to the chest from Mikasa for it - even if her lips twitch in some weak approximation of a smile. For most of those left, they haven’t pursued love matches - just comfort in the absence of what they had. But there’s camaraderie there, trust that brings about a love that’s _more_ than romantic love, in many ways. How many times had they almost died for one another?

Jean sighs, “Well, it’s the message that the Scouts get when they go. And he was a Scout right to the end. Helped end this damn war as much as the rest of us did.”

A hand wraps around his - Pieck. “Of course he did. And we honour him as much as the rest of them, for what they gave us,” she smiles. “Even Eren brought all of us together, in the end. Even if he lost himself in the process.”

Those words are clearly for Mikasa and Armin - the former curling into Reiner’s shoulder, the latter looking away with a locked jaw. Pieck is kind, sweet, caring - she reminds him of Marco a lot of the time. She’s trying to help them find good in a situation where there is none. 

They separate, then, to give any more goodbyes they might need to. Of course, they can visit any time they like - but with things finally settling, with the world finally coming to a shaky sort of peace, it finally feels like they’ve reached a victory Jean swore they’d never get. He stops before Marco’s grave, and reaches behind his neck. He’d bought the locket on impulse years before to hold the fragment of bone he’d kept on his person for years, but he wonders if it’s finally time to let it go. Not to let Marco go - he never could - but to give himself some peace. He kisses it one last time before placing it in front of the grave.

Pieck leans into his side. “Will you tell me about Marco Bodt, one day?” she asks softly. He lets his hand entwine with hers, their fingers threading through one another’s, and swallows against the tears in his throat. He presses a kiss to her hair, so hard that he can feel the pressure of his teeth against his mouth. 

“Yeah. I’ll tell you about Marco,” he murmurs when his voice is steadier. His free hand goes to her belly before he leads her away. “I’ll tell you _both_ about Marco.”

* * *

“I hate it. I hate it so much,” Connie says from where they’re stood. “I mean, I get it. It’s tradition. But could they not have picked something a bit less stupid? Spread your wings? Really?”

Sasha laughs at his side, “It’s _tradition,_ Con. And besides, they’re honouring you as a Scout. That’s a good thing, right? That’s what you died for.”

“I died because I got hit on the head by a huge Titan-thrown rock. We were almost at freedom at that point. It’s stupid.”

There’s a laugh from behind them, and he flinches when his head gets flicked. “Stupid death for a stupid guy, hm?” Ymir says, and he gives her his best withering look. Still, it’s nice to be able to act the way they are - like the kids they never got to be, like the friends she’d never allowed herself to have. They all know who she’s waiting for - but she’s in no hurry for Historia to get there. 

Though the man who impregnated Historia is another story altogether. 

“Lay off, guys,” comes another voice. Marco is stood at the edge of the glad, still staring down. His face is pensive, hair blowing in the wind. He reaches out as if he can touch the image of Jean, as the locket is placed around the gravestone, but it passes through his fingers like sand. 

“What now?” Sasha asks after a while. Marco turns away from the apparition, and goes over to his friends. A hand on his shoulder, a ruffle of his hair. He feels more at peace. 

He smiles, and shares a look with Ymir. She’s in the same position as him, in the end. She misses Historia just as much. “Now we wait,” he says. “And hope they don’t come here too soon.”

If nothing else, Marco has one advantage over Jean. He knows, without a single doubt in the world, that he will see him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. I'm not okay, S4 is fucking me up. Hope you guys are okay (I did warn you in the tags!)


End file.
